


what's a mob to a king, what's a king to an emo teenager?

by crossroadswrite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Protection Program Fusion, Found Families, Gen, King Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Misunderstandings, NOT IN AN ANGSTY WAY MOSTLY IN A FUN WAY, No one is their canon ages, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Prince Otabek Altin, Spy Katsuki Yuuri, Yuri Plisetsky's Abandonment Issues, Yuri Plisetsky-centric, Yuuri is kind of Yuri's dad kind of Yuri's cool older brother, i swear this is mostly silly and a little dumb, of different countries and not related at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 01:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: Yuri has very clear and specific instructions about how he should act around Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia, and none of them include giving him the up and down and going “What the fuck are you wearing?”Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia glances down at his expensive-looking Disney Prince tunic and matching pants that look like they costed more than Yuri’s iPhone.To be completely fair, he looks very good in it, and Yuri’s surprise was more about how good he looks than the actual clothes. Also the amount of green and gold assaulting his eyes. No one should be allowed to wear that much green and look good.“Clothes,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia says. Then looks over at Yuri, eyeing his leopard print Vans with a raised eyebrow.Yuri is going tofight him.(or: the princess protection program au that was supposed to be quick and messy and short, but instead its over 10k and people have emotions.)





	what's a mob to a king, what's a king to an emo teenager?

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest shoutout to [El](http://k-o-o-k-m-i-n.tumblr.com) my precious daughter who was kind enough to bully me with the oxford comma.
> 
> Second biggest shoutout to Belles who is a precious angel in my life whom I love and cherish. I tried to write some cute otayuri for you but instead,,,,,,,, here's this,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i'm sorry.
> 
> ALSO!! Super secret content. I wrote a bit of backstory to this, it's like ~1k long but it's also a lil sad and it harshes my happyness vibe so it's posted privately on my tumblr, just for the few of you that read this and wanna read about teeny yura being adopted. [Click here but don't tell anyone shhh](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com/private/165612707028/tumblr_owoej9ktP71rqtt6k).

“It’ll be fun,” Yuuri says, injecting as much fake-cheer in his voice as he can, which, when you’re Katsuki Yuuri and haven’t slept for two days, isn’t saying much.

Yuri gives him a flat look. He said that  _ last time _ . The time They Do Not Speak About, because last time had ended up with Yuuri crying into a bowl of borscht Yuri had hastily made, and with Yuri hovering, feeling useless and small.

“And it’ll be just for a little bit,” Yuuri tries, splaying his hands with the palms facing Yuri. It’s meant to be placating, but it looks a little bit like he’s doing Jazz hands to try to impress on him how much fun he’ll have.

“How long’s a little bit?” he asks, not giving an inch.  _ Last Time, _ a little bit had been a little over one year.

“Maybe a month… or two,” Yuuri says, very carefully, almost wincing.

Yuri gives him his best unimpressed look, clicking his tongue distastefully.

Yuuri sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know what you’re thinking and it won’t be like last time. For starters, he’s your age, and it looks like it’s going to be a fairly quick job. The safe house we’d prepared has been compromised by a third party and his parents are still in charge of the kingd-“

“His  _ parents _ ?! He’s just a prince?”

Yuuri startles, winces because he knows Yuri knows. “Well, yes. It’s more of a safety precaution than anything else. His older and younger sisters are being put in an all girl’s high security academy, but they couldn’t-“

“You got demoted didn’t you.” It’s not a question. Yuri balls his fists up. “You got demoted and you didn’t  _ tell me _ ?!”

Yuuri slumps. “It’s not important, Yura. I still have a job and-“

“You got demoted because of  _ that fuck- _ “

“Yuri!” Yuuri says, voice firm, and Yuri huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s not like he’s wrong.

Yuuri never raises his voice, and when he does, he looks like he immediately regrets it. Yuri watches him pinch the bridge of his nose and take slow, measured breaths. He feels bad for bringing it up, and he’ll probably feel worse later when he stops being angry over everything that Yuuri is throwing at him right now.

Wanting him to share his  _ room _ with a complete stranger  _ and _ not telling him he’s been demoted because of that fuckface? Yeah, Yuri isn’t in the best mood right now.

“Please,” Yuuri says, and he’s still not looking at him. His eyes are still closed, he’s still pinching the bridge of his nose; he looks so so tired. “ _ Please _ , Yura, do this for me. If you really can’t do it, I’ll figure something else out, but just-“ he sighs, lets go of his nose and looks up at him. “Please give it a try? You know I’m only doing this because I trust you with my work. I  _ trust _ you to help me.”

And here we go, straight past angry and landing on slightly guilty. Yuuri  _ has _ been through a lot, and Yuri can’t deny that Yuuri explicitly saying he  _ trusts him _ doesn’t make him swell up with pride a little bit.

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes for effect. “I’ll help, but if this guy turns out to be a nerdy goody-two-shoes prick, you’re on your own.”

Yuuri smiles and moves closer to give him a side hug, kisses the top of his head because he still thinks Yuri is six or something. “Thanks,” he says, and Yuri lets all of this happen for exactly twenty seconds before he ducks from under his arm and promptly starts shoving Yuuri towards his room.

“Now go the fuck to sleep, you look like a decomposing corpse.”

“Yes, yes,” Yuuri sighs, a true testament to just how tired he is, and lets Yuri trip him onto his mattress.

“And don’t get up until you’ve gotten eight hours of sleep! I’m late for school. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Yura,” Yuuri mumbles into his duvet, already sounding more asleep than awake.

_ Good _ , Yuri thinks, and gets his backpack to venture into the hell known as high school.

«»

Yuri has very clear and specific instructions about how he should act around Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia, and none of them include giving him the up and down and going “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Which is immediately followed by a  _ ohno he’s hot _ moment that is squashed down by the memory of Yuuri crying on Borscht. Yuri has definitely learned his lesson about good-looking royalty.

Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia glances down at his expensive-looking Disney Prince tunic and matching pants that look like they costed more than Yuri’s iPhone.

To be completely fair, he looks very good in it, and Yuri’s surprise was more about how  _ good _ he looks than the actual clothes. Also the amount of green and gold assaulting his eyes. No one should be allowed to wear that much green and look good.

“Clothes,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia says. Then looks over at Yuri, eyeing his leopard print Vans with a raised eyebrow.

Yuri is going to  _ fight him _ .

He opens his mouth, most likely to say something that might possibly cause a political accident, but Yuuri walks into the room just in time to cut him off. Yuri has absolutely no idea how his timing is so consistently good. Eight times out of ten, when Yuri is preparing to do something ill-advised, Yuuri suddenly materializes just in time to stop him.

“Oh, Yuri, you’re home. I see you’ve met Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia,” he says, giving Yuri the  _ and please tell me you haven’t managed to insult him already _ sideye.

“Just Otabek is fine,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia says. “Thank you for hosting me in these trying times, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Ah, no, that’s fine-” Yuuri says, awkwardly, because even though he’s been doing this for almost as long as Yuri has been alive, he’s still a mess when it comes to handling people being grateful to him.

“It  _ is _ his job,” Yuri points out, because he’s a little shit and his  _ Vans are cool fuck you Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia _ .

“Nonetheless, my family and I are thankful,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia says, bowing.

Yuuri waves his hands around a little uselessly. “It’s fine, you don’t need to thank me, it’s my pleasure to be able to help.”

“And mine,” Yuri says. “Dad promised me a new pair of skates, so your family better be paying some serious bank for this.”

Yuuri elbows him in the ribs, softly. “ _ Yuri _ ,” he hisses.

Yuri holds his hands up, placating, and lets himself fall down on his mattress, leaning back on his hands and looking at the two other man standing in his room. “Sorry,” he says, without an ounce of apology in his voice.

“I’m sorry for him,” Yuuri says, and Yuri’s eye twitches. “He takes a little while to warm up to people.”

“I’m standing  _ right here _ ,” he huffs.

“I understand,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia says, sounding very serious and very polite. Yuri gets the distinct feeling that he’s kind of a nerd loser and sharing a room with him is going to be boring and annoying as hell. He’ll probably want to spend all day inside playing chess or reading books on politics or whatever it is princes do. “I’m intruding on your home. I didn’t expect to be immediately welcome.”

Yuri makes a face at that. Why is he  _ so polite _ ? It’s going to be annoying to live around that and be constantly compared to it.

_ Ugh _ .

Yuri falls back and takes the phone out of his pocket checking his Instagram feed and ignoring Yuuri and Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia being polite at each other.

“Oh, I should’ve asked, are you okay with cats?”

Yuri freezes mid-scroll because if this asshole isn’t good with cats, he can go sleep on the couch for the next two months for all Yuri cares.

“Yeah,” Otabek says, voice gentling a little. “Hello, who is this?”

Potya meows as if saying hello back and Yuri pushes himself upright which is proven to be a mistake because there’s a hot guy in his room petting his needy cat who is rubbing herself all over his hands.

“That’s Yuri’s cat. Her name is Puma Ti-“

“Potya!” Yuri shouts, lobbing a pillow at Yuuri’s head because the  _ betrayal _ ! How dare he! “Her name is Potya, shut up.”

“Ah, my bad. Her name is  _ Potya, _ ” Yuuri says, and honestly Yuri wishes he could’ve recorded this so he can shove his phone down the next person’s throat who tells him they don’t understand where he gets his pettiness from. “I need to make a phone call. Help Otabek settle in. I’ll come check on you two in half an hour.”

Which translates to  _ be nice to him, please, or no take out for the rest of the week. _

“Whatever,” Yuri huffs, and flops his hand in a shooing motion.

«»

Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia is sitting at Yuri’s dining table when Yuri walks into the kitchen and he’s wearing  _ leather _ which Yuri thinks is a hundred percent unfair because  _ he _ can’t pull off leather that well, not to even mention that Yuri’s attention whore of a cat is purring like an engine on his lap as he lathers a piece of toast with jam.

It’s too early and he’s too gay for this.

“Ugh,” he grunts, and kicks a chair out a little so he can sprawl on it, putting one of his earbuds in.

“Good morning, Yuri,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia greets, quite pleasantly.

“Morning,” he grunts, looping the other earbud around his ear, because contrary to popular belief he’s been well-raised and also he needs to hear the doorbell.

There’s a couple of beats of silence where Otabek keeps methodically putting jam on bread and Yuri tries to wake himself up.

“Are you not having breakfast?”

“It’s Wednesday,” Yuri tells him.

Otabek raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Dickweed McFuckface sends a groveling breakfast basket on Wednesdays,” he says, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings.

Yuri pushes himself off his chair and goes to open the front door.

“His Highness the Royal King of-“ Georgi starts, holding the basket full of food up to Yuri.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for the food, tell him to fuck off, bye, Georgi,” Yuri says, taking the basket from him and shutting the door in his face.

Yuri holds the picnic basket up to his face, lifting up the finely embroidered cloth that’s covering the top to peek in. “Hell yeah, donuts.”

They’re Yuuri’s favourite too, but then again, everything Mr. Receding Hairline sends is.

He puts the basket down on top of the table and takes three donuts for himself and two other pastries that he’s unfamiliar with but look delicious enough for him to want to try.

“You can take some,” Yuri offers, because he’s supposed to be  _ nice _ to Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia and also because Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia looks fine as hell in a leather jacket and with his hair gelled like that. Also, Yuri thinks he spied a bike parked outside that he knows for a fact doesn’t belong to Georgi.

“Thank you,” Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia says, and takes one, setting it on his plate and cutting it with a knife and a fork.

_ Ugh _ , royalty.

King Fuck Up used to do that too.

“It tastes better if you use your hands,” Yuri tells him and twirls the donut around one finger, taking bites off the side, because that’s the only way of eating a donut.

Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia looks over at him, then down at his plate. He sets his silverware down and picks up the donut and bites into it delicately.

Yuri rolls his eyes, crams the rest of his donut in his mouth and washes it down with milk until he feels like he’s about to choke.

«»

Yuri turns out to be half right about Otabek. He  _ is _ a dork who is legitimately interested in history and math and can recite everything relevant that happened in his country in chronological order, but he also  _ DJs _ and knows how to ride a  _ motorcycle _ and has a deadpan sense of humor that you can easily miss.

It’s been almost a week with no major incidents and Yuri is forced to admit that Prince Otabek Altin of Khazhakhstahnia may be kind of cool and maybe a little sweet.

“I have a question,” Otabek says, looking at Yuri from across the cramped library table.

“I’m not going to explain to you the several reasons behind the steady decline of our good country’s education system and economy again,” Yuri tells him, because that had been a frustrating conversation and he’s actually trying to do his homework.

Yuri isn’t out here keeping his grades high to get distracted by good looking boys with complicated political questions.

Otabek turns the history book he brought from home around and slides it towards Yuri.

Yuri looks down at it for the three full seconds that it takes him to see the picture in one of the corners – a royal family whose last name isn’t said as much as it’s spitted out, a king and queen with blond hair looking regal, and their small hoarde of children: three teenagers, one baby - and then he shoves the book across the table.

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Otabek says, pulling the book back to him and closing it. “I just wanted to be sure it was you.”

“It’s not,” Yuri denies.

“Okay.”

“So don’t bring it up again.”

“Okay.”

“Or I’ll have to punch you in the liver,” Yuri adds, for effect.

“That seems fair. I’m sorry for springing this on you.”

“If you were really sorry, you’d buy me food.”

Otabek doesn’t say anything, just pushes back from his chair and gives Yuri six full minutes to think he fucked up somehow and that Otabek now  _ hates him _ before he comes back and dumps a bunch of candy from the candy machine on top of his textbook.

Yuri leans over and punches him in the shoulder. “Don’t fucking walk away from me like that again, you dramatic fuck.”

Otabek’s lips twitch up. “Apologies,” he says, very seriously. “Should I get you more candy?”

Yuri lobs a pack of M&M’s at his head.

«»

Yuri’s woken up on Sunday with a hand on his shoulder at the ungodly hour of six a.m.

He blinks his eyes open to see Otabek in his turtle print pajamas, looking all frowny and worried.

“What the f-“

“There’s a man hanging upside down in the hallway.”

Yuri blinks, then groans and shoves his head under his pillow.

“It’s probably just Georgi, let me  _ sleep _ .”

There’s ten whole seconds of blessed silence, before, “aren’t you going to cut him loose?”

“He broke into our house, he can cut himself loose,” Yuri says, pressing the pillow down against his face. If he suffocates himself and passes out maybe he’ll get to rest for a while longer.

Another beat of silence. “His face looked abnormally red, I don’t think that’s normal.”

_ Ugh _ .

“ _ Fine _ , I’m up!” He throws his pillow in Otabek’s general direction and pads into the hallway where Georgi is  _ indeed _ hanging upside down in the hallway.

“Good morning, little Yuri,” he says.

“Fuck off, why couldn’t you wait for a decent hour to be obnoxious?”

Georgi gestures to the five bouquets of flowers hanging by the window, which he probably brought in before he fell into one of their security traps. “I thought it’d be more romantic if Mr. Katsuki woke up to these.”

_ Ugh _ .

Yuri gets Georgi down, feeling a probably unhealthy sense of satisfaction from hearing his body thump to the floor.

Georgi stands up and dusts himself off. “Thank you. Now if you’d let me...”

“Shut up, you’re taking those back.”

“His Royal Highness was very specific about-“

“The Royal Shithead can live in regret for the rest of his miserable little life, for all I care.”

Georgi opens his mouth, then closes it again. “You know what, I’m not paid enough for this. I’ll tell him to send Mila next time.”

“Finally had enough?”

“I cannot bear to watch true love be kept apart like this. It’s so  _ tragic _ ! I’ve clearly failed in being the cupid his Royal Highness deserves,” Georgi intones, and Yuri is pretty sure there’s tears in his eyes. “I will take my leave then.”

“Wait,” Yuri calls, “you didn’t really think I’d just let you waltz out of here after waking me up at six a.m. with five intact bouquets of expensive flowers, did you?”

“I-”

“I’m going to need some construction paper and glue,” Yuri says, smirking because this is going to be  _ so good _ .

Two hours later he has an obnoxiously big piece of construction paper with flowers glued onto it spelling out GO CHOKE ON A DICK.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding it up so Otabek can get the full effect.

“Your coordination of colors is very good,” Otabek says.

“It looks surprisingly artistic,” Georgi adds, looking impressed.

Yuri grins, proud of his work. And then stops grinning when Yuuri walks into the kitchen and freezes, taking in the scene.

“I’d like to say this is the weirdest thing I’ve walked in on happening in my kitchen, but it isn’t,” he sighs, going to the fridge and taking the energy shake he makes in bulk and chugging it. “Has everyone eaten yet? Georgi, do you want something?”

“Prince Otabek has fixed us breakfast already, thank you, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Oh, he did? That’s nice, did you thank Otabek, Yura?”

“I thank him with the gift of my presence every single day. He gets to pet my cat, what else do you want from me?”

Yuuri looks over at Otabek, who just shrugs and says, “I  _ do _ get to pet his cat. It’s the least I can do to thank him.”

Yuri grins smugly because  _ see _ . Then squints. “Is that blood on your shirt?”

Yuuri still has his hair mostly pushed back from his face, so he probably just came in from work.

“Someone ran into a wall at work and broke their nose,” he says, wiping his fingers against the stain as if that’s going to make his shirt unblemished. Yuri doesn’t fail to notice his scuffed knuckles.

“How many times did they run into a wall?”

“A couple,” he mumbles, sipping his protein shake before putting the rest in the fridge. “I’m going to nap. Don’t worry, I’ll still take you to the rink in the afternoon,” he says, passing by Yuri and ruffling his hair. “Don’t cause a diplomatic incident while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Yuri says, just in case.

«»

“You suck at this,” Yuri informs Otabek, just on the off-chance he doesn’t know.

By the way he’s frowning down at his own feet, knees bent and arms awkwardly out-stretched in front of him, he knows exactly how much he sucks at this.

Yuri skates lazy circles around him, doing a jump or two just because he enjoys being a dick.

“Don’t they teach you ice skating at prince school?” he asks, skating backwards in front of him and watching Otabek slip on his skates.

“I’m homeschooled,” he huffs out, wind-milling his arms to keep his balance.

Yuri laughs at him.

“You’re really good at this,” Otabek says.

“I know.” Yuri pushes off on his skates and turns without missing a beat, before getting the speed he needs to land a triple axel and then a double flip. Yuri then goes into some elegant footwork that made him bleed before he got it down. And yeah, maybe he’s showing off a little, but he hardly gets to do it.

Yuri loves skating, and local competitions where he easily wipes the floor with every wannabe that thinks they can challenge him hasn’t been cutting it for him since he was thirteen.

He goes into a sit-spin because he’s good at those, and then into some international competition gold worthy footwork, and finishes it cleanly to the sound of clapping.

Yuri looks over to see Otabek leaning on the half-way surrounding the rink and applauding, looking impressed, which only really means that both of his eyebrows are raised and his eyes are a little wider than usual.

Otabek is a very difficult person to read.

Yura gives him a bow, pleased, and skates towards him.

“I can do even better,” he tells him, because he  _ can _ . He could be amazing if he could just  _ compete _ . It’s frustrating for both him and his coach.

He offers his hands to Otabek, palms up.

Otabek stares at him for a solid two seconds, enough for Yuri to start regretting all of his life choices up until this point.

“Do you want me to teach your klutz-ass to skate or do you want to keep falling on it? I’m more than happy to watch you fail, if you don’t want my help.”

Otabek raises an unimpressed eyebrow but takes both of his hands, fingers gripping tight around Yuri’s palm as Yuri pulls him forward and away from the rink’s wall. It’s slow going and a couple of times Yuri honestly thinks that Otabek is going to fall on him and crush him since he’s more built than Yuri and also a wall of solid muscle.

After about twenty minutes with careful guidance, Otabek can slide around mostly on his own and he spends more time on his feet than with his ass on the ice, so Yuri calls it improvement.

“You suck slightly less,” Yuri congratulates him. “Like, one twentieth less.”

“Thanks,” Otabek says, completing his third full lap around the rink without falling.

Yuri curls his lips into a tiny smile. This is nice. It’s been a while since he had someone to skate with him.

When he first started, Yuuri used to guide him around the ice, worriedly hovering and making Yuri wear knee and elbow pads. He would have made Yuri wear a helmet too if Yuri hadn’t thrown a tantrum to avoid that one, but back then Yuuri wasn’t Dad yet and he was still in charge of protecting Yuri from crazy power-hungry lunatics. Everything was still too new for both of them.

“Why don’t you compete professionally?” Otabek asks, on their seventh lap around the rink, the strokes of his skates now steady on the ice.

“Besides money?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re a self-thought genius and beautiful, I don’t think sponsors would be a problem.”

“Beka, that’s gay,” Yuri says, and he’s sure Otabek would push him if he could do it without falling. Yuri smirks at him, then turns his face away from Otabek and says, “Fascism. That’s why I can’t compete professionally.”

“Fascism?” Otabek asks.

“Fascism,” Yuri confirms.

If Yuri had been the one asking why Otabek couldn’t compete professionally and Otabek just said ‘fascism’, he would probably have told Otabek to fuck off and if he didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t need to. But Otabek isn’t Yuri, so he takes what Yuri says at face value and believes in him, even if it sounds ridiculous.

“Fascism always sucks,” Otabek says, quite seriously.

“Yeah, it kinda does.”

«»

“I thought chess was for nerds,” Otabek remarks, sitting cross legged in front of Yuri.

“It is,” Yuri says, squinting at the chess board between them before moving his bishop.

“You seem pretty good at it,” Otabek continues, moving one of his pieces just where Yuri thought he would.

“You calling me a nerd, Mr. I Get Off To History Books?”

Otabek raises his eyebrows at him. “History is important, Yura.”

“ _ Nerd _ ,” Yuri says, moving his queen. “Also check.”

“This is the third time you’ve beaten me.”

“Just because your chess game is weak, it doesn’t mean I’m a nerd.”

Otabek topples his king and Yuri gets a swelling sense of satisfaction from hearing the dull thud of the chess piece on the wooden board.

“Rematch?” Yuri asks, already organizing his chess pieces and looking up at Otabek. His hair falls in his face, obscuring his vision, and he blows it off, huffing in annoyance when it falls back on his eyes.

“Sure,” Otabek says, and reaches over to tuck Yuri’s hair behind his ear.

Yuri freezes, cheeks flushing. One of these days he’s going to punch Otabek square in the jaw for being so cute, even if he’ll probably scrape his fingers since Otabek’s jaw is sharp enough to cut diamonds with.

He leans back and swallows, telling his heart to  _ shut the fuck up _ because crying on borscht is what happens when you get crushes on royalty and Yuri isn’t playing these games.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you,” he says, to distract both of them, and moves one of his pawns before Otabek even has time to finish setting up.

«»

On a Friday morning, Yuri and Otabek walk into the kitchen to Phichit going through their fridge, already with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth.

“I didn’t hear the front door,” Yuri says, grabbing the milk carton from Phichit’s loaded arms and getting some cereal.

“I broke in,” Phichit says, setting his spoils on top of the table and examining them critically.

“You have a key,” Yuri tells him, in case he forgot. “Stop breaking in, you’re ruining our defense systems.”

“I  _ built _ your defense systems. I’ll just make them better.”

Yuri isn’t awake enough for this conversation so he just pours some cereal for himself and Beka and slumps over the kitchen table.

“A lot of people break into your house,” Otabek points out.

“No one we know has learned how a door works. Blame Dad for it, he makes the weirdest friends.”

“Aww,” Phichit coos, mixing a bunch of food that should  _ not _ be mixed into a giant sandwich. “I’m your friend too, little Yuri.”

“Call me that again and I’ll cut you with my knife shoes.”

Phichit reaches over to pinch his cheek and Yuri attempts to stab him with his spoon.

“You don’t mean that,” Phichit says confidently, even though Yuri just attempted to spoon his hand out.

“Try me, bitch.”

Predictably, this doesn’t affect Phichit at all, since he’s gotten to see Yuri through his awkward tween years.

“Don’t worry, little Yuri. Big Yuuri was a late bloomer too, it’s in your genes.”

“I’m adopted,” Yuri points out.

Phichit slams his hand into the table and clutches his heart dramatically, gasping. “ _ Who told you _ ?”

Yuuri walks in then, squinting at all of them. “What’s going on?”

“ _ Yuuri! _ Little Yuri knows he’s  _ adopted _ . Gasp!”

“Did you just say ‘gasp’ out loud?” Yuuri asks, settling down on a kitchen chair and picking at the rejected pieces of Phichit’s monstrous sandwich.

“It’s a gasp-worthy situation.”

Yuuri hums, clearly deciding that it’s too early to put up with this bullshit.

“Besides me having none of his predominant genes, I didn’t actually start calling him Dad until I was, like, eleven.”

Otabek looks surprised by this, eyebrows ticking upwards.

Phichit leans over towards him. “It’s true,” he confirms. “He accidentally called Yuuri Dad and then tried to pretend it was on purpose so he kept doing it.”

Yuri splutters, bits of cereal flying out of his mouth and milk dripping down his chin. “How the  _ fuck do you even _ -“ Yuri starts, whipping his face towards Yuuri who is conspicuously looking away. He  _ knows _ ? He  _ knows _ ?! His whole life is a lie.

Yuuri shrugs and lazily munches on a three day old slice of pizza Phichit had decided not to put in his disgusting creation.

Phichit laughs at him openly, and Otabek is looking at him with an amused raised eyebrow.

“And you just let me call you dad for the past six years?!”

“I didn’t want to upset you,” Yuuri says, looking apologetic.

“I can’t fucking  _ believe _ …” Yuri huffs and spitefully spoons cereal into his mouth.

This day  _ sucks _ .

«»

“What’s  _ he _ doing here?” Yuri says, on a late Sunday morning, after a healthy and frustrating basketball game with Otabek. They’re  _ almost _ the same height  Yuri doesn’t understand why Otabek is so much better at it than he is.

Yuuri looks over at him. “Oh, welcome back, Yura. Do you want some lunch? I have the day off today,” he says, casually, as if he doesn’t have  _ Him _ laying on top of him on the couch.

“This looks like a family matter, I’m going to shower,” Otabek says, and Yuri has to give him kudos for making it sound like he’s not just making a tactical retreat.

Yuri stomps towards them and crosses his arms, glaring down at the scene on his couch. “What’s  _ he doing here _ ?”

Yuuri puts his arms around him protectively.

“He’s a good boy, Yura.”

“I don’t  _ care _ . He and the other one aren’t allowed in here.”

“Makkachin has done nothing wrong,” Yuuri defends, scratching the dog’s ears and receiving a lick on the chin for his efforts, prompting him to add, “ever. In his life.”

Makkachin rolls his big brown eyes up at Yuri and pants smugly in his face.

Yuri glares.  _ Stupid dog _ .

“You’re just going to let him woo you with his dog?! Where’s your dignity!”

“It’s a very cute dog,” Yuuri defends, as if that’s a good reason for  _ anything _ . And then, “There’s something in your room for you.”

Yuri is immediately suspicious.

“Like  _ hell _ I’ll want anything that good for nothing narcissist wants to give me,” he spits, stomping away so he can get whatever the hell it is and dump it in the trash.

Yuri throws the door of his room open with a vengeance, letting it slam on the wall so Yuuri can hear it all the way from the living room, his eyes immediately landing on the thing on top of his bed. Yuri thinks he stops breathing a little when he fully registers what’s on his bed. He approaches it cautiously, keeping a wide berth  _ just in case _ that if he steps too close it’ll suddenly disappear.

Potya lifts her head from where she had been napping on Yuri’s pillow and blinks at him lazily, watching his progress through the room. If Yuri didn’t know better, he’d say there was a bit of judgment in her gaze.

He takes a step forward, then another, until he’s close enough to poke at it.

Poking only makes the things sag a little against the bed.

Yuri holds his breath. Not a mirage, then.

He picks the pair of skates up, getting rid of the obnoxious bow tied to them and turns each one in his hands carefully.

God, Yuri  _ hates him _ . How dare he  _ leave _ and then do shit like this?!

He sits on his bed, cradling the black skates with the costume black blades and costume leopard print blade guards and laces.

Yuri had been  _ very careful _ never to tell Yuuri about his dream skates, because he knows just  _ how expensive _ these are, and he knows that Yuuri being Yuuri would probably bend over backwards to try and get them for him. He had only let himself talk about them  _ once _ to that shithead, when they were cooking dinner for Yuuri one night, and back then Yuri had been absolutely  _ certain _ McDouchebag hadn’t even been listening to him.

He’s so dazed by this that he doesn’t register that Otabek walked into the room until he’s standing in front of him with a worried face.

“What’s wrong?” Otabek asks, eyebrows all frowny and mouth sad looking.

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong.”

Otabek presses his lips together and reaches up, swiping his thumb over Yuri’s cheekbone and smearing something wet on it and oh, okay. He might be crying. Okay.

“I’m sweating. From my eyes,” Yuri offers, blinking rapidly. “It’s a family condition.”

“Is the condition called having emotions?” Otabek asks, pulling down the dumb looking long-sleeved turtle print shirt he insists on wearing around the house and carefully dabbing it on Yuri’s cheeks. Yuri isn’t quite sure why he lets him, but he lets him.

“No. It’s called Ocular Perspiration. It’s fatal. I’ll die soon.”

“Tragic,” Otabek says, with absolutely no inflection. “I’ll bring roses to your grave.”

Yuri snorts.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re black so you can rest in peace for eternity being as emo as you lived.”

Yuri chokes on a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re dragging me when I’ve told you about this severe condition I have. Heartless.”

Otabek gives him his amused, pleased face, and just stands there, half-crouched in front of Yuri and waiting for him to get his shit together.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Otabek asks.

Yuri raises his eyebrow and gives him a  _ yeah, right _ look. Talking about  _ emotions _ ? Yeah, he doesn’t think so.

“Look at my new sweet knife shoes!” he says, as a distraction method.

Otabek looks at them. “Cool,” he says.

“ _ I know right _ ?!”

«»

“So,” Yuuri says,  _ casually _ , at dinner.

Yuuri is never casual.

Yuri squints at him.

“Did you like them?”

Yuri presses his mouth together in distaste. “They’re fine… I  _ guess _ .”

Yuuri smiles.

“I’m only keeping them because I was raised not to be wasteful,” Yuri says haughtily.

“Okay.”

“He’s still not allowed in here.”

“Okay,” Yuuri repeats.

“Stop feeding the dog under the table, you’re going to give him diabetes!”

Yuuri blinks big brown eyes at him. “What dog?” he says, even as he shamelessly picks a bit of meat off his plate and lets Makkachin lick it from his hand.

Otabek snorts at Yuri’s side and Yuri gives him a betrayed look.

“You’re very alike,” Otabek remarks when Yuri keeps staring at him.

Yuri and Yuuri look at each other, then just shrug it off and keep eating.

«»

It’s getting around to being two months since Otabek came to stay with them when Yuuri announces that he’ll be gone for a couple of days. Yuri very studiously does not worry about it, because he’s not trying to develop an ulcer at the tender age of seventeen.

“Don’t worry, little Yuri. Yuuri is the best in his field, he’ll kick some ass and be back in a jiffy,” Phichit says, cheerfully.

“I’m not worried,” Yuri lies.

“Oh, so you  _ don’t _ want me to keep you updated?” Phichit asks, tilting his head towards his laptop.

Yuri gives him a nasty look.

Phichit holds his hands up. ”I’m kidding, I wouldn’t dream of keeping this information from you, kid. Yuuri’s fine, he’s  _ good _ at what he does and he’s been doing it for a long time. If only he stopped getting so personally involved with the little royal princes he so bravely rescues, maybe he’d stop getting demoted.”

“Didn’t that happen, like, once? With His Royal Premature Baldness?”

Phichit’s eyes suddenly dart away from him and settle on his laptop.

“Yuuri is the Zorro of saving princes. Very dashing, very charming, very  _ seductive _ . Who knows how many members of royal families throughout the globe harbor crushes on your devoted father figure?”

Yuri squints at him, watching Phichit suddenly focus intensely on his laptop as if he’s not there.

“He got demoted when he took me in, didn’t he?”

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s let’s not answer this question o’clock!”

Yuri huffs. “ _ Whatever _ . That was his own decision.”

It’s not his fault that Yuuri keeps getting demoted and has to claw his way up the ranks again.  _ It’s not _ .

“It was, and he doesn’t regret it,” Phichit says, and then, when Yuri refuses to say anything else, “where’s your handsome prince friend?”

“I don’t know probably watching turtle terrarium videos on Youtube. He has a weird obsession with turtles, I don’t really get it. It’s not even the official animal of his country. I checked.”

“Maybe you should take him to the aquarium on that fancy bike of his. Plenty of turtles there.”

“You’re trying to distract me from the fact that Dad might be getting shot at right now.”

“I absolutely am. Is it working?”

“No, but I’m still gonna take Otabek’s nerd ass to the aquarium.”

«»

Otabek makes them spend one full hour in the turtle habitat area and lists off turtle trivia to the  _ tour guide _ who just kind of lets it happen.

Yuri takes way too many selfies and buys a tiger shark plushie the size of his whole torso on his way out. He also buys the biggest turtle plushie the gift shop has and lobs it at Otabek’s face as hard as he can with a heartfelt, “take this, you fucking nerd.”

It almost makes him forget about the fact that the person who is arguably his only family works a high risk job involving  _ guns _ and fighting  _ militias _ .

«»

Yuuri was supposed to be gone three days. It’s edging on the fourth and Yuri is predictably losing his shit. He’s daring someone to tell him to calm down so he can have an excuse to punch them in the face.

“Yuuri is highly experienced in what he does, I’m sure he’s fine,” Otabek says, quite reasonably, in what’s the only version of  _ calm down _ that Yuri will accept, mostly because its Otabek saying it.

By the sixth day, even Phichit is agitated and has called back-up in the form of the most annoying hag Yuri has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“Can you stop  _ eating our food _ and focus!” he hisses.

Mila pointedly shoves an entire piroshky in her mouth and starts chewing obnoxiously.

Otabek pre-emptively puts a hand on Yuri’s shoulder so he won’t go off on her.

“ _ Children _ ,” Phichit says, exasperated. “I’m trying  _ very hard _ to find my best friend, so if you two could  _ shut up _ for one second-“

“If you hadn’t  _ lost him _ in the first place!” Yuri says.

“If he had kept to the  _ plan _ -“

“If he had just  _ not been a dumbass _ and accepted a protective detail like my boss wanted,” Mila chimes in. “Are we going to keep doing this? Because it’s not going to take us anywhere, and if I’m not back in five hours, the king himself is going to lose his collective shit and start overturning countries for this id-“

“Don’t call him an idiot, you fugly _ ass _ -“

“He  _ is _ an idiot! Who the hell would choose going around playing superman instead of marrying-“

“A narcissist? Oh gee, yeah, I wonder who!”

“Otabek, take them to another room. I can’t concentrate on actually finding Yuuri if they keep being  _ loud _ -“

“This is  _ my _ house and I-“ Yuri stops halfway through the sentence, when the sound of the back door opening and closing. His mouth shuts with a click as everyone in the room, in almost scary unison, turn towards the door.

Yuuri looks up at them, frowning slightly in confusion. There’s a big band-aid on his cheek and Yuri can spy a bandage wrapping around his wrist and lower arm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“ _ What’s going on? _ What the hell do you mean  _ what’s going on?! _ Where have you  _ been _ ?!” Yuri explodes.

“Out?” Yuuri says, very carefully, and then as if it’ll fix anything, he lifts up a take-out bag. “I brought tacos?”

Yuri turns to Otabek, and says in the most ironic voice he can pull right now as relief and anger overlap on his tongue, “oh, he brought tacos, isn’t that  _ great _ ?! Do you want a taco, Otabek?”

“I want one,” Mila says, and sidesteps all of them so she can get a stupid goddamned taco.

Luckily Phichit seems to be the only other sane person in the room right now (barring Otabek) and says, “Where is your phone?! We were so worried, Yuuri!” But because he’s Phichit, as he says this, he walks across the room and hugs Yuuri so tight that Yuuri groans.

“Ah, I might’ve lost it… on the train,” Yuuri edges.

“What train? There was no train in your travel plan,” Phichit says and Yuuri winces.

Yuri immediately knows that he’s going to hate whatever is coming out of his mouth next.

“Some, ah, people had different travel plans for me? And I might’ve, uh, been forced on a train, and then… um, jumped? Out of it?”

“ _ You jumped off a moving train?!” _ Yuri can feel his ulcer developing right at this moment.

“Just a little bit,” Yuuri says, putting his hands up to settle him. He’s still holding the taco bag. He looks ridiculous. “It wasn’t going very fast. It’s fine.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, very calmly, putting one hand in Yuuri’s shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t get kidnapped and tried to handle it by yourself.”

Yuuri looks away. “I didn’t get kidnapped and tried to handle it by myself,” Yuuri repeats, in the least convincing voice Yuri has ever heard coming from him.

Yuri throws his hands up. “I’m not dealing with this right now,” he declares, and stomps away.

«»

Yuri is fully aware that he’s angsting in his room but, considering the circumstances, he thinks he’s more than entitled to angst.

He’s got Potya cuddled up under his arm and his earbuds in with his music turned all the way up. He’s going to stay in this exact position and not move until he’s won the argument he’s having with the Yuuri in his head that what he did was  _ irresponsible and reckless and horrible _ . It’s very hard to win an argument when even the Yuuri in your head is apologetic and tired. Yuri will persevere though, because he just spent two days wringing his hands in worry and he is  _ mad _ .

(He’s mostly scared that one day, Yuuri really won’t come back, and he’ll be alone, but it’s easier to say he’s mad so he’ll go with that.)

The door of his room opens and Otabek walks in, carrying a tray of food.

Yuri wasn’t really worried about it being someone else since he put a paper on his door with GO THE FUCK AWAY (not you beka) written on it, and Yuuri is, as a rule, very respectful of Yuri’s space.

Otabek nudges Yuri’s legs and sets the tray on top of his bed, looking at him until Yuri huffs and takes one earbud out.

“What?”

“Eat,” he says, pointing at the food.

Yuri stares him down for a total of two minutes. Otabek is very  _ very _ good at stare-offs. He just looks impassively at Yuri, barely blinking, until Yuri huffs and sits up, ripping the other earbud from his ear and tossing his phone somewhere on the bed where it won’t bother them.

Potya blinks her eyes open and mews in confusion when she notices he’s not sitting by her anymore. Then she gets up, stretches, and pads into Yuri’s lap, laying down to go back to napping. Yuri gets the warm fuzzy feeling having a soft animal love you induces and runs his fingers through her fur, making her purr contentedly.

A good cat. Yuri loves her.

Otabek waits him out, just sitting at the edge of his bed until he picks up the food and starts eating. Yuri, because he’s Yuri, obnoxiously chews with his mouth open in a silent  _ see? I’m eating. Is this what you wanted? _

And Otabek, because he’s Otabek, raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“I have younger siblings, if you think that’s going to disgust me, you’re wrong,” he tells Yuri.

Yuri is tempted to stick his tongue out with half-chewed food at him, but refrains. Instead, before the silence can become awkward, he asks, “How many?”

“Siblings? One older sister and two younger.”

“That sounds loud,” Yuri points out.

“It is. They’re good kids, I like them.”

“Gross,” Yuri says. Otabek’s lips twitch just the tiniest bit. Yuri is very pleased with himself for that.

He eats a couple more bites of his food before he asks, as disinterested as he can make himself sound, “what’s it like, having a big family?”

“On good days it’s good, there’s always someone around if you need them. You grow up knowing these people will have your back no matter what,” Otabek says seriously. He always takes Yuri seriously. Yuri has absolutely no idea what to do with that. “On not so good days? A little overwhelming. Sometimes it’s hard to get a moment alone without someone invading your space. Because of our status, we grew up being very close to each other. I can’t really speak for other families.”

“Uh,” Yuri says. “That’s not really what I remember it being like.”

Otabek lifts an eyebrow, but Yuri isn’t going to elaborate on that. He’d probably need a bottle of vodka to get to that and there’s no way Yuuri will let him get smashed without some sort of supervision.

“You have a lot of people who care about you,” Otabek says, and Yuri gives him a  _ look _ somewhere between disbelief and disgust at the current topic of conversation. “It’s not just Yuuri.”

“Yeah, okay. Name one person.”

“Me.”

Yuri blinks at him, and then rolls his eyes. “Sure.” Because Otabek is only going to stay for a little while, then he’ll leave. And Yuri will probably cry on borscht. It’ll be terrible.

“I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious.”

“I won’t stop caring about you just because I don’t see you every day. That’s not how it works.”

“That’s exactly how it works,” Yuri counters, before he can stop himself, and regrets it almost immediately.

“You,” Otabek says, slowly, spacing his words for maximum impact, “are an idiot.”

“What?”

“A complete dumbass.”

“What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“I care about you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yuri, I care about you.”

“Gay,” Yuri singsongs, avoiding Otabek’s entire physical body as best as he can.

“Yuri. I. Care. About. You.”

“ _ Ohmygod _ , shut up!”

“I will shut up when you listen to what I’m saying.”

“I’m  _ listening _ -“

“You’re hearing, you’re not-“

“Ohmygod! Okay! You care about me! Shut the fuck up!” Yuri explodes, grabbing a pillow and mashing it against Otabek’s face. Keeping it there just in case Otabek starts spouting any other ridiculous bullshit. He turns his face away, “And I guess you don’t totally suck and I might care about you too, or whatever. God, you’re so  _ lame _ .”

“That’s sweet of you, Yuri,” Otabek says, muffled by the pillow. Yuri whacks him on the head with it.

“ _ Disgusting _ . I don’t want this, get the hell out of my room.”

Otabek grabs the pillow the next time Yuri is going to whack him in the head with it and takes it from him. Yuri is bitter at Otabek’s superior upper body strength.

“Okay,” he says, putting the pillow down and getting up, taking three full steps to the door before Yuri realizes he’s  _ actually leaving _ .

“Ohmygod, you absolute moron, sit your ass down, what are you doing?! I can’t believe you’re leaving me to eat alone. The  _ disrespect _ .”

Otabek snorts and sits back down, taking the pillow and securing it on his lap so Yuri can’t use it as a weapon.

«»

The thing about Yuuri sometimes disappearing is that it happens at least once every six months, and in the end he’s always fine and Yuri always forgives him for being an absolute reckless shithead.

They’ll have a stilted conversation, since Yuuri is as emotionally challenged as Yuri is emotionally constipated, and then they’ll go out to eat something that’s probably going to give them diabetes and spend some time doing something fun, like ice skating, or watching a hockey game, or going the dance studio or the gym where Yuuri teaches Yuri self-defense techniques and allows Yuri to wrestle him into the mats once or twice.

They’re always  _ fine _ .

This time is no different. After a full day at the mall in which Yuri makes Yuuri sit through a fashion show in the dressing rooms of Hot Topic (Otabek sitting beside Yuuri and providing insightful tips), and a dinner at McDonalds that features an awkward, stilted talk about how they care for each other and how Yuuri will try to be more careful while Otabek is in the bathroom, they’re fine and dandy and everything is back as it used to be.

Phichit still makes them sit through a whole viewing of Lilo & Stitch when they get back home. Phichit cries. Yuuri also cries a little bit.

It’s fine. They’re okay, Yuri and his dumb little overemotional family are okay, and that’s all that matters.

«»

Yuri wakes up from his very well deserved rest at the ungodly hour of seven am with someone loudly knocking on the downstairs door and Adele’s  _ When We Were Young _ blasting somewhere outside.

Yuri lifts himself up, pushing Potya’s butt from his face, and squints threateningly at the wall.

“ _ What the fuck _ ?”

Otabek is by the window, sipping on a mug and peering at whatever is making all that racket outside. When he hears Yuri, he turns with a confused and slightly amused expression. He points outside, in the vague direction of where Yuri knows the front door is, and says, “That’s the fuck.”

Yuri drags himself off the bed and to the window to witness His Royal Highness, the reigning king of an  _ entire country _ badly singing to Adele on his porch.

“Beka, pinch me, I think I’m hallucinating.”

Otabek pinches him and Yuri feels it, which is unfortunate.

He looks up at the ceiling and prays. He’s not a religious man, but he  _ prays _ that people will just let him fucking get some rest for a full week without any kind of bullshitery happening.

Then, when he finally accepts that those are but childish dreams and he will never get any rest in his life, he pads towards his bed and pulls out the small plastic container he has hidden under it, carrying it with him to the window and popping the lid open. He examines its contents carefully before he handpicks a red colored balloon filled with water and lobs it as hard as he can at his sovereign.

The balloon smacks against His Royal Baldness’ upper torso satisfyingly, drenching his expensive clothes.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP. PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP, YOU DIPSHIT!” Yuri yells down at him. “And get the hell off my property before I call the police!”

Victor’s head snaps towards him, and then, because he really is the most infuriating man on this earth, he  _ smiles _ . Fucking disgusting fake bitch.

“Yura! Did you like your skates and the breakfast I’ve been sending for you?! You look taller!”

“You look old and balding! Go away!” Yuri lobs another water balloon at his face to puncture his sentence, only belatedly registering the sound of the front door opening and Yuuri stepping out, the balloon making a direct trajectory to his face. Yuri has a moment to think  _ oh fuck I’m in trouble _ , just as Yuuri’s reflexes kick in and he lifts his hand to catch whatever is flying at his face.

The balloon bursts in his hand and he looks at it in confusion before his eyes track the trajectory back to Yuri, and then squints.

“Oh shit,” Yuri yelps, grabbing a handful of Beka’s shirt and pulling him down with him so that they’re both out of Yuuri’s disapproving stare. “We’re in trouble.”

Otabek looks down at his mug. “I’m glad I didn’t drop my tea.”

“We are going to  _ die _ , don’t think about tea now!” Yuri hisses.

Then Victor’s obnoxious voice filters through the open window, squealing, “ _ Yuuri _ , my hero! May I come in?”

“Sure,” Yuri hears Yuuri say.

He grits his teeth. “Nevermind.  _ He’s _ in trouble. Let’s go, Otabek,” he says, dragging Otabek down the stairs behind him. He has a tirade on the tip of his tongue and all the righteous anger to deliver it.

He’s going to tell that stuck-up  _ dick _ exactly how he feels about him, except somewhere between reaching the downstairs floor and spotting Victor casually sitting on their breakfast bar in his boxers while he’s mixing jam in his tea, he loses it.

“Yura! Hello. Oh, and Prince Altin. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Otabek bows respectfully. “Likewise, your highness.”

Victor waves his jam spoon around the air dismissingly. “Please, feel free to call me Victor. I hear you’re having trouble back home?”

“You may call me Otabek, Victor. I’m humbled you’d ask. Just a little bit of trouble, but nothing that Khazhakhstania can’t handle. We have loyal people.”

“I’m glad to hear! Do you want some tea?”

“Some would be lovely, thank you,” Otabek says, as if one of the most prolific kings this age has ever seen isn’t standing around in poodle patterned Armani boxers.

“Are you staying with my Yuuri while the trouble back home is dealt with?”

“Yes, they have been very hospitable.”

“They are, aren’t they?!” Victor says with a friendly, slightly heart-shaped smile. “How are you adapting to public school?”

“Yuri has made my transition from a private academy to a public education system very easy.”

“Wonderful, I’m glad to hear that. He’s a very nice boy. A little prickly, but very bright. Have you-“

“Is everyone insane?” Yuri bursts. “Why are you naked?  _ How _ did you strip so fast? What  _ the _ fuck?”

Victor turns to him, still pleasant. “You got my clothes wet. My darlingest Yuuri was afraid I’d catch a cold, so he’s getting me a change of clothes.”

“He’s not your  _ darlingest _ -“

“Vitya, I have your clothes,” Yuuri says, joining them.

Yuri is pretty sure something in his nervous system just bursted.

“Otabek,” he says, feeling his eye-twitch, “please tell me my dad isn’t currently helping this land’s biggest asshole button up his shirt.”

“I won’t,” Otabek says, sipping his tea and taking this all in stride.

Yuri has no idea what the twilight zone is, but he’s pretty sure he just entered it.

He takes a big gulp of air and then lets it out all at once, “what in the fuckshit mcdick are you two  _ doing _ ? He appears at your door with a boombox like this is a bad eighties movie and suddenly you’re all over him again? Have you forgotten what he  _ did _ that you’ll just get back together like that?! What the fuck!”

Yuuri stops buttoning up Victor’s shirt and looks over at him with a slight confused frown.

Victor is looking equally confused.

“Did we break up and you didn’t tell me, my Yuuri?” Victor asks with a slight pout.

“No? I don’t know what he’s talking about? Yura, are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

“You broke up! He left! There was  _ borscht _ !”

Victor and Yuuri exchange a look. Yuri wants to get between them, put a hand on each their faces, and push until they’re as far away from each other as possible.

“Yura,” Yuuri says, very calmly, very gently. “Did you think Victor left because he broke up with me?”

“Why  _ else _ would he leave!?”

“He’s… the king?” Yuuri says, looking over at Victor as if to confirm that he is  _ indeed _ the king.

“You  _ cried _ . He didn’t even say  _ goobye _ , just  _ disappeared _ …”

“I did try,” Victor points out. “Every time I said anything about leaving you’d run away. I tried when we were in your room and you jumped out of the window. Then again when I was driving you to school and you tried to jump out of the car. It’s very hard to tell you something you do not want to hear, Yura.”

Yuri flushes and ignores the  _ look _ that Otabek is giving him.

“You still made him  _ cry _ !” Yuri says, a little desperately because he wants to  _ stay mad _ , goddamnit.

“I cry at dog videos,” Yuuri points out. “I was sad he wouldn’t be around as much.”

“You-  _ he _ -“ he splutters. “Why didn’t you just  _ say so _ ?”

“I tried. Every time I mentioned Victor’s name you’d run away. You were so mad at him for leaving that I figured I’d just give it a little time to calm down.”

“It’s been two years!” he bursts out in a huff.

“In my defense, I  _ have _ been sending you apology gifts for almost two years,” Victor says.

Yuri wants to punch something. Probably Victor. Also himself, a little bit.

“ _ I hate this fucking family _ ,” he huffs. “I’m going for a walk.  _ Goodbye. _ ” He declares to the room at large, marching out of the front door. He’s still wearing his pajamas and he’s barefoot, but he doesn’t give a shit right now.

He doesn’t get far before Otabek comes jogging towards him with a jacket, Yuri’s shoes, and his motorcycle keys.

He tilts his head towards his bike with a questioning eyebrow raised. Yuri could  _ kiss him _ right now but he settles for silently making his way towards it, putting the helmet, jacket, and shoes on, and climbing behind Beka, arms around his waist, which is nice because he kind of needs a hug but he’ll cut off one finger before he asks for it.

Beka kicks the bike into gear and drives away.

«»

They get back close to midnight when Otabek is running out of gas. The house is quiet and Yuri doesn’t see any car that could belong to Victor in the driveway, but then again, he can just as well send for a reinforced bullet-proof limo whenever he damn well pleases, so.

They walk back into the house as quietly as possible because Yuri would very much like to avoid any type of emotional conversation for as long as he physically can. Unfortunately, he’s not that blessed and Yuuri is waiting for him in the living room, eyes fixed on some baking show he gets way too into at times.

He lifts his eyes when Yuri and Otabek walk in, a set to his mouth that immediately tells Yuri there’s no possible way of escaping from this.

“Otabek, would you mind if I had a private conversation with Yuri?”

Otabek gives him a look out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows tilted in question.  _ Do you want me to get you out of this? _

Otabek is the only good person on this earth and if Yuri were a more emotional person he’d probably cry on the daily at how blessed he is to have someone like him in his life.

As it is, Yuri just nods a little bit and dumps himself on the couch.

“Of course,” Otabek says to Yuuri, bowing his head slightly as he makes his exit, up the stairs and into their joined room.

Yuuri takes a while to start talking but Yuri expected him to.

“You know, Victor asked me to marry him a total of twenty-eight times since we met,” Yuuri says, looking at the TV blankly.

“No shit,” Yuri says, a little surprised. He’s even more surprised by the clear lack of a ring on Yuuri’s finger. “You said no?”

“I said no,” Yuuri confirms. “Being in the secret service doesn’t exactly go hand-in-hand with being a public figure. And I’m your legal guardian, which would put you in the line of succession to the throne if Victor and I married. That would be… a very messy situation.”

And  _ great, _ now Yuri can feel guilty about  _ that _ in addition to more or less treating Victor like shit for the past couple of years.

“Mostly, I don’t think I’m particularly suited to be a consort, don’t you think?” Yuuri asks, turning his head towards Yuri and tilting it slightly with an amused quirk of his eyebrow, as if the mere concept of him sitting beside Victor in a throne room were ridiculous.

Which is hilarious, considering. “Says the abdicated prince,” Yuri shoots at him.

“ _ Abdicated _ being the key word,” Yuuri shoots back, still calm and light. “Kingdoms fall all the time these days.”

They do, and there’s probably no one that knows it better than the two of them. Yuri, who watched a revolution happen before his very eyes at the tender age of five and saw a small empire fall, and Yuuri, who abdicated  his throne to pursue ballet even before the Emperor stripped his family of their titles.

One day, Yuri has to ask him how he went from the Bolshoi to being in the secret service. He thinks it probably has something to do with Victor but he doesn’t want to ask. Yuuri doesn’t like talking about that. Yuri is pretty sure he wouldn’t even know Yuuri had been a prince once upon a time if Yuuri hadn’t volunteered that information when Yuri was young and upset over not living in a palace anymore.

They’re quiet for a while, then Yuuri says, “Victor cares about you.”

Yuri huffs, looks away.

“He does. You know, he hates what I do, hates that I put myself in danger like this.”

“Yeah, he’s not the only one,” Yuri mutters, drawing his knees to his chest and pressing his back against the arm of the couch.

“But he respects it and he supports me in more ways that I can name. Yura, we’re- we’re  _ really _ close to making it so you can compete professionally, and it’s only because Victor finances these trips out of his own pocket and sends people to retrieve me, sends people to investigate while I’m busy with actual work. He wants you to achieve your dreams as much as I do.”

“I don’t want you to get yourself killed just because I want to skate. I-“

“I won’t.”

“You were kid _ napped _ -“

“It was a very sloppy kidnapping,” Yuuri says, as if that’s supposed to be reassuring or something. “The people who’d try to take advantage of you, if they knew you survived that day… they’re dwindling. It’s been almost twelve years, your identity has been scrubbed. As soon as I take care of the ones that are  _ still _ trying, you can compete.”

Yuri doesn’t actually know what type of people are after him. He faintly knows what purpose they were hoping he’d serve, but not the intricacies of just  _ what  _ Yuuri has to do to allow Yuri to live the calm life he does and to even do  _ more _ and be able to compete  _ internationally _ . All he knows is what Yuuri tells him. Yuuri always answers his questions, but if Yuri is being honest, he doesn’t like asking.

Their house is tripwired all over for a  _ reason _ and it’s not because Yuuri is a relatively successful secret spy.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of my stupid dream.“

“It’s not stupid,” Yuuri says. “It’s what you want. I’m in charge of you, it’s my job to make sure that you’re safe and that I can do everything in my power for you to pursue your dreams. My parents did the same for me. It didn’t work out in the end, but…” Yuuri shrugs, vaguely.

Yuri presses his face into his knees.

“My  _ point _ was,” Yuuri starts, “Victor is on your side, you shouldn’t hold it against him. He is trying his best. He always does.”

Yuri sighs. He hates this a lot.

“Did he leave?”

“He’s upstairs in my bedroom.”

“Gross.”

Yuuri snorts. Then heaves himself up and takes a couple of steps towards Yuri and ruffles his hair. Yuri doesn’t mind, it had already been a mess from wearing a helmet for so long.

“We love you and we’re not going to leave you, okay?”

Yuri just kind of… overbalances himself so he falls against Yuuri, pressing his entire flank to his front.

“Okay… or whatever.”

They stay like that for a while before Yuri feels centered enough to push off and right himself.

Yuuri ruffles his hair one last time, then fusses with it to try to get it to part around his face properly again. “Goodnight, Yura.”

“Goodnight.”

And then Yuuri walks up to his room, probably to do disgusting things with his boyfriend.

Yuri takes a while to get himself up and go into his own room.

Otabek is sitting on the guest bed they dragged inside, reading his nerd book with Potya on his lap, purring contently. He lifts his head when Yuri comes in, takes a look at him, and opens one of his arms in invitation.

Yuri climbs into the bed and settles beside him, letting Otabek put an arm around his shoulder and hold him for a while.

“What are you reading?”

“History book,” Otabek supplies, angling it towards Yuri so he can see the pictures.

“Nerd,” Yuri says, sliding down a little bit to settle more comfortably into Otabek.

“Do you want me to read it for you?”

“You trying to get me to fall asleep?”

“Sleep is important, Yura.”

Yuri snorts. “Sure. Read me the book on human stupidity.”

Otabek starts reading. Yuri  _ does _ fall asleep, which he would feel a little bad about if he hadn’t woken up with Otabek drooling on him and Potya trying to suffocate him by laying on his face.

Life’s pretty okay, he guesses.

«»

Yuri goes down the stairs for breakfast to find Yuuri squinting into the void, clutching a mug of tea, looking like he’s trying to comprehend his existence, and Victor wrapped around him like Yuuri is the source of his life-force.

Yuri lived with him a whole year and he’s still not convinced that it isn’t.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, making himself a bowl of cereal.

“Good morning, Yura! Did you sleep well?” Victor says, cheerfully, while Yuuri just hums vaguely in acknowledgment.

“No, I could hear you snoring from my room.”

Victor gasps, very dramatically. Yuri did not miss him. He  _ didn’t _ . Shut up.

“I do not  _ snore _ . I breathe  _ loudly _ . There’s a difference,” he says primly. “Yuuri, tell him,” Victor whines, squeezing Yuuri a little bit.

Yuuri pats him on the cheek,  _ lovingly _ , and Yuri has to twist his nose at it otherwise the universe would probably fall out of order. This is how it works. Yuuri and Victor are adorable and Yuri twists his nose at their interactions. This is how it’s supposed to be.

“It’s okay, Vitya,” Yuuri says, “your snoring is cute.”

Victor looks split between being mock-offended and flattered. He settles on flattered, squishing Yuuri to him in a way that can _ not _ be comfortable. “ _ Yuuri _ , you’re so cute! Marry me?”

“Hm, maybe later,” Yuuri says, calmly sipping his tea. Yuri gets the impression that this happens a lot and that he’s only now noticing.

Victor pouts.

«»

Victor can’t stay for long, which…. Yuri has conflicting feelings about. He feels like he should apologize a little for being  _ difficult _ or whatever but also he really  _ really _ does not want to do that. Because emotions are hard and Victor is clingy.

So Yuri settles for awkwardly punching him in the chest and going, “You’re allowed in here again, I guess. Since you gave me those sweet skates and all.”

It’s a very lowkey way to say  _ I’m sorry I kind of ignored and blocked you out of my life for two whole years because I have a crippling fear of abandonment that no doubt stems from my own birth parents and older siblings leaving me behind while they made their getaway while our palace was being stormed by very angry people and if it weren’t for Yuuri I’d probably be dead right now. _

Which proves to be a mistake because this is Victor who only allows himself to be emotional within the confines of this house, so he  _ overreacts _ a little bit. His eyes get shiny and Yuri is about to backtrack all the way out of the house, but, before he can, Victor more or less flings himself at him and squeezes him until Yuri feels like he’s going to crush his ribcage. His toes are barely touching the floor which  _ sucks _ and if he doesn’t hit that growth spurt that everyone has been promising he was going to hit soon, he’s going to be seriously pissed.

“Aw,  _ Yura! _ I’m so happy! I love you too!”

“That’s not what I said, get off me, old man,” Yura says, pushing against Victor so he’ll let him go. He isn’t pushing that hard, but no one needs to know that.

Victor puts him down and Yuri takes three steps back so he’s not anywhere within his reach. Yuuri is giving him that soft pleased look like he’s proud of him or something, and Yuri flushes a little bit and looks away. Which is also a mistake because Otabek is giving him the Otabek version of that look, which is a little more understated and a little less fatherly.

“ _ Shut up _ ,” he huffs, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Aww, you know what this situation calls for?” Victor says, cheerfully. Yuri is already taking half a step back before Victor shouts, “family hug!” and pulls Yuuri and Yuri in against his chest, squishing them together uncomfortably.

Yuuri loops his arm around Yuri’s back so he’s holding him in place and Yuri has no chance of escape. So he does the next best thing: he grabs Otabek by the front of his shirt and hauls him in.

“If I have to suffer through this, so do you,” Yuri says, even as Victor shifts to welcome Otabek into the group hug, squeezing them all together with his freakish Slenderman arms.

Otabek, for his part, just embraces all of this.

“This family sucks,” Yuri remarks, because he’s expected to. No one makes a comment on how he’s hugging back.

It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Kind of nice even. Yuri might even say that he’s  _ enjoying _ it.

…His family is kinda cool, actually.

  
  


 

[   a   f e w   y e a r s   l a t e r   ]

_ “And on the top of the podium we have Yuri Plisetsky, the miracle rookie, who has come out of nowhere to take the skating world by storm!” _ the announcers says as Yuri leans down to accept his bouquet of flowers.

He feels… elated. He’s sweaty, his costume is sticking to him uncomfortably, there’s a dull ache in his muscles from how much he’s strained them, scraping his way up to the top of the podium, but he’s  _ here _ . He’s here  _ finally _ , with Yuuri and Victor cheering for him on the other side of the rink wall, waving their arms and jumping.

Yuuri looks like he’s still crying. Yuri can’t blame him, he cried too.

He’d probably still be crying, if there weren’t a thousand cameras pointed at him, flashes blinding. Maybe next time he’ll bring sunglasses with him to the top of the podium.

Otabek skates over. He’s very good at it now.

_ “And we have our own prince, the hero of Khazhakhstahnia, Otabek Altin, doing the award ceremony. Prince Altin insisted on doing this himself! He’s said in several interviews he’s a fan of skating, and his support for Yuri Plisetsky – today’s winner – is well-known!” _

He has a solemn look when he greets the other competitors, bowing his head politely to them and saying encouraging words. Then, he gets in front of Yuri and holds his composed expression for exactly one second before it collapses into a smile. His entire face softens and Yuri beams back at him, too high on winning to keep his expression in check.

He leans down, bending at the waist so Otabek can put the gold medal on him.

“I’m so proud of you,” Otabek says, quiet enough that just the two of them can hear. He takes his time adjusting Yuri’s medal around his neck. “You were beautiful, Yura.”

Yuri looks up, sees Otabek’s stupidly handsome face right in front of his and then he just kind of…

“ _ Oh- oh boy! That is this year’s Grand Prix champion making out with Khazhakhstahnia’s most beloved prince right on top of the podium! This event is just full of surprises! Keep it PG, boys, this is a public showing,” _ the commentator laughs nervously.  _ “Ah, young love! And that’s all for the live broadcasting of the Grand Prix event, folks! We’ll be right back after the commercials with some words from our winners!” _

 

**Author's Note:**

> a family can be an abdicated prince, a lost prince, a good prince, and a clingy king
> 
> also i can't believe i wrote a 10k+ fic and my boy Victor only appears in like two scenes, someone feel my forehead I think i'm coming down with something


End file.
